


Probability Is Like the Truth

by PoolWatcher



Category: Red vs. Blue, Supernatural
Genre: AIs are demons, Crossover, Gen, Hunter AU, Post-s05e19: Hammer of the Gods
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-26 05:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/647003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoolWatcher/pseuds/PoolWatcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The motel was beat up and run down, but it was still shelter from the storm raging outside.</p>
<p>An AU where the Blood Gulchers and Freelancers are all hunters with their own motivations, and Tucker finds a sword that bonds with only him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Dave for inspiring this. I can't promise that chapters will come quickly, but I do like to explore this AU. I believe the original prompt was something like: 'Tucker is descended from the line of Gabriel's vessels, and as such is the only one who can use his sword.' Trying to blend SPN and RvB canon here.

The hotel was a wreck. Singer’d said there’d been a massacre of gods here not too long ago, but the blood had dried and the bodies had disappeared, so Tucker didn’t see any reason not to hole up here in the face of that monster storm. Caboose and Church and Tex had sequestered themselves in one of the rooms, but Tucker was feeling antsy and couldn’t just sit still.

O’Malley, that fucking demon, had led them out this way and then thoroughly disappeared into the Indiana countryside.Tucker waved his flashlight through the darkened rooms as he prowled the ruined hotel, his thoughts churning. It was bad enough that Doc had been taken over by that parasite, but at least the medic had enough strength of will to fight for intermittent control. Tucker was pretty sure Doc was the only reason they had any idea where O’Malley was at all.

Tucker stepped into what was clearly the main lounge, panning his light over dried pools of blood and toppled furniture. He paused, though, when the light caught something strange on the floor. A glinting sword lay in the middle of what looked to be the ashy imprints of six very large wings. Tucker moved cautiously forward, scanning the room for any traps, and was struck, as he moved closer, with a wave of sadness and regret that was almost palpable.

He backpedaled rapidly, trying to get out of range of the lingering emotions and catch his breath. Whatever the hell had died here, it’d been strong, powerful. He ended up leaning against the wall next to the large swinging double doors of the room and staring at the death markings. They were compelling, beautiful in a way Tucker tried not to think about much in his life.

“The fuck?” he muttered to himself, shaking off the vestiges of the emotional transference. Tucker cautiously took a step forward, away from the wall, and when nothing happened, another. Slowly, he inched his way closer to the sword, which seemed to gleam almost without any help from the flashlight at all. He braced himself for the same overpowering emotions as before, but they never came. Tucker breathed a small sigh of relief and glanced around in nervousness. He skirted the edges of those wing-imprints; some part of him desperately wanted to avoid disturbing them.

Tucker took one last look around the room, waiting for the other shoe to drop, before he quickly reached down and picked up the sword with his free hand. It felt…depressingly normal, Tucker realized. He took a few practice swings and huffed out a laugh. The balance was excellent, he could tell, and Tucker swung it a few more times. He was unable to stop from murmuring “swish” under his breath as he grinned.


	2. Chapter 2

“What the fuck is that?” were the first words out of Church’s mouth when Tucker got back to the room, flashlight off and sword in hand.

“A sword, dumbass,” Tucker snorted as he shut the door behind him, careful not to disturb the line of salt there.

“I think the better question,” Tex interjected as Tucker joined them at the dilapidated table, “is where the hell did you get it?”

“Down the hall, in the big room there.” Tucker laid his new sword on the table, letting his two companions take a closer look.

Tex reached for it, but as soon as her hand closed on the handle, she dropped it as if it had burned her.“What the hell, Tucker?” she asked, cradling her hand. On closer look, it seemed reddened, like with first-degree burns, and Tex was glaring back and forth between Tucker, the sword, and her hand.

“I don’t fucking know!” he protested, raising his hands in defense. 

“It’s not demon-friendly, that’s for fucking sure,” Church added, shooting Tucker an evil look.

“Look,” Tucker said, running his hand over his cornrows in frustration. “I get it. You two are some kind of semi-benevolent breed of demons, and it’s great that you’re helping us try and save Doc from O’Malley. But just because you guys are okay doesn’t mean I don’t want to kill the rest of those fuckers. Not just send ‘em back to hell.” He took a deep breath, ready to continue, but was startled by a strong pair of arms wrapping around his chest from behind.

“You’re being loud again, Tucker,” Caboose mumbled at him, and Tucker sighed.

“Sorry, Caboose.” The arms dropped and the youngest, and definitely most naive, member of the group took a seat at the table with them.

“Are you feeling any more flashes of O’Malley?” Tex asked, a small hint of concern edging into her business-like tone. Caboose shook his head and let it rest on the table.

“I just get jumpy when there’s yelling,” he said into the tabletop. Tucker sighed and stood, making for the bed.

“Well, if you guys are gonna stay up, I need some fucking sleep. Or just some fucking, but that sure as hell ain’t happening here.” He ignored Church flipping him the bird and Tex groaning, and collapsed onto the bed.

******

Tucker dreamed that night. He dreamed of flying around the globe in an instant, six powerful wings at his back. He dreamed of brotherhood and belonging in a way that an only child of a single father from Detroit didn’t know. Voices called and sang through his dreams, and then it changed.

Things became more earthly, and Tucker found himself approving. Beautiful women appeared with a snap of fingers, scantily clad and ready to service him. Food, wine, whatever he wanted, was available with a thought. It took him a moment, but then Tucker realized that the voices had diminished, and that sense of family was instead replaced with an aching loneliness that reverberated with him. He saw two men, hunters, and a feeling of guilt and shame washed over him. It left an uneasy feeling in his gut.

Tucker woke, and wondered what the hell had just happened.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, an update! So sorry for the long delay in this. I've recently been inspired again, so I hope to have more of this AU written soon. Scribbled this bit down in a fit of inspiration tonight, so enjoy! Comments are always welcome!

Shaken from his dream and lousy with adrenaline, Tucker knew he couldn’t stay in the room. Sighing - another night’s sleep lost since this whole thing began - he tucked his gun into his waistband and grabbed his flashlight and, after a moment, his new sword. He’d need to get some kind of sheath for it, if he was going to keep hauling it around. Still, the grip felt warm, comfortable in his hand, so he could deal with it for now.

Tucker slipped out of the room, exchanging a nod with Tex where she sat silently in vigil over a soundly-sleeping Caboose. Church was nowhere to be seen.

His feet led him down the same path he’d trekked earlier, back to the conference hall and those wings. The image of them haunted him; he had to take another look, check them out again.

He was not prepared to see Church in the room, inspecting the mark on the floor. “What the hell, dude?” Church looked up, his eyes flashing demon dark for a moment before fading back to his regular green.

"Thought I’d check these out while you were passed out," he offered, standing up as Tucker drew in closer. He gave Tucker a searching look, letting his eyes drop to the sword in Tucker’s hand for a moment. "You have no idea what this is?" Church asked, his brows furrowed and staring at Tucker as if trying to to decipher the truth of him.

Tucker returned his look with a raised eyebrow. “Pretty sure, dude. All I could tell was it was something strong, you know? And sad. Hit me with some kind of emotional transference shit the first time I got close, but after that? Nothin’.”

"What? Why the hell didn’t you say that before?!" Church was very suddenly in his space, in his face, trying to get a better look at Tucker.

"Woah, dude, back the hell up!" Tucker pushed back against Church, and he knew that Church only moved because he let himself be moved. Fucking demon.

"Tucker. This is important. Did you get anything else? Visions, false memories, anything like that?" Woah. That’s…a little freaky. The hell?

"What the fuck dude? I didn’t realize this was a fucking sumber party," Tucker shot back defensively. When the hell did Church get so perceptive?

"Tucker, I mean it. Was there anything else?" Church’s eyes flashed black again, a sign that he was being serious - he and Tex kept as human an appearance as possible, for Tucker and Caboose’s sakes.

"Jesus, man, calm down. I mean, I just had some kind of freaky dreams, but they can’t have anything to do with this, right?" Tucker looked to his friend for reassurance, but Church’s face was anything but. "It wasn’t anything bad, okay? Hot chicks wanting to fuck me shouldn’t be that unusual a dream, right?"

Church looked away, back to the ashy wings on the floors, and didn’t answer. Something twisted uneasily in Tucker’s gut. “Church?”

"It was an archangel, Tucker. An archangel died here, and I’m pretty sure you have its sword."


End file.
